


Perfectionist

by orphan_account



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Chefs, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Arthur is his hot eighteen-year-old boyfriend, Blow Jobs, Eames is a chef, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 12:30:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8144122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Arthur is dedicated to whatever task is at hand. Or, sometimes, between his lips.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is just smut; I had an urge to write Arthur being a bit slutty (in a good way) and then this happened.

Arthur’s fingers twitched as he heard his boyfriend bid adieu to the final clients of the evening. Wednesday nights were always a particularly arduous wait – instead of closing at nine as per usual, Eames kept the restaurant open late to do private tasting menus for customers who had a spare couple hundred dollars to spend. He would go out and cook for them in the open part of the kitchen that faced the seating area, serving and entertaining them all by himself. Seven courses, different every week. It usually took so long that even the dishwashers had finished their work from the normal dinner rush and gone home by the times Eames was done. Arthur would spend the whole time sitting in the back by the pantry, doing his homework and waiting for Eames to be done.

Tonight’s couple took _ages_ , deciding to savor their leftover wine and make small talk with Eames long after they had finished their desserts. Arthur always loved to watch Eames while he worked, though. He was effortlessly charming (as always) and typically ready with a story or amusing anecdote should an awkward lull develop in the conversation.

And the way that he described food was downright sensual. Arthur wasn’t certain if Eames was doing it to tease him, knowing that he would be listening in, but it surely seemed that way. And, even after a couple months, Eames’s voice still did things to him. Competent and confident and downright sultry.

“I thought they would never leave,” Arthur said, jumping out of his chair as Eames came back into the empty kitchen. They shared a quick kiss, and then he followed Eames into his little office in the back corner. He closed the door behind him and pushed Eames back up against a stack of file cabinets before dropping to his knees. “I’ve wanted to do this all evening,” he said, his breath hot against the front of Eames’s trousers.

Eames threw his head back and groaned. “How is this my life?”

Arthur smirked as he hurriedly undid Eames’s pants and began to mouth at the growing bulge in his briefs.

“Bless your raging teenage hormones,” Eames said as he laced his fingers gently into Arthur’s hair, mussing it up from the way that Arthur always gelled it into submission. Arthur looked up and gave him his best glare, although its efficacy was somewhat diminished by the fact that he was – well, about to blow him. Eames grinned, and Arthur just shook his head before getting back to work, divesting Eames of his underwear and taking him straight into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Eames rasped out. “Arthur, the things you do to me.”

Arthur set an easy, confident rhythm, bobbing his head back and forth on a few inches of Eames’s cock, now fully hard. He hollowed his cheeks out a little to apply some suction, earning a breathy moan in response.

“Oh, Arthur, what would I do without you? Fuck,” Eames said, just as Arthur hummed a little to send some vibrations through his cock. “You’re always everything I want, everything I need, always so good for me.”

Arthur paused and pulled back for a moment. “Well, I’m actually just in this for the free food, so…”

“You have always been a bit orally fixated.”

Arthur grinned lasciviously in response, his eyes dark and wanton. His tongue darted out to swirl sinfully around the head of Eames’s cock, having learned from experimentation that this was something that Eames loved.

Eames had rolled his eyes the first time that Arthur had insisted on practicing his technique. He’d assumed Arthur was teasing him, couldn’t be that focused or that intense or that interested. He had been wrong.

For Arthur, just making Eames come wasn’t the sign of a _good_ blowjob. Eames had to fall apart under Arthur’s ministrations, be reduced to incoherent moans and heavy breathing until his orgasm shattered out of him. And Arthur didn’t just want to be _good_. He was a perfectionist.

And, he was an empiricist. So if he sucked Eames off more days than not, he at least had good reason for it.

And it turned out that Eames loved this dichotomy, this mercurial way of Arthur’s that effortlessly combined vulnerable, inexperienced uncertainty with sheer cockiness that, someday soon, he would be an expert.

Eames groaned above him as Arthur dipped his tongue underneath his foreskin, something that seemed to consistently drive him crazy. Arthur closed his eyes before diving back in to take more of his length back into his throat, concentrating on not choking and on wrenching those little breathy noises out of him.

“Fuck, Arthur,” Eames moaned. Arthur responded in turn with more enthusiasm, bobbing his head up and down on Eames’s cock and taking it deep, as air just wasn’t worth it anymore if it meant not having Eames in his mouth. He began to move faster and suck a little harder as Eames’s breaths grew shallower.

Eames took one more look down at Arthur, his pupils blown wide and his lips red and slick and stretched around his cock, and he closed his eyes. Arthur loved this moment the most, when Eames just gave in to the pleasure Arthur was bringing him, shutting off everything in his mind that wasn’t focusing on what he was doing to him. Like nothing else existed.

Arthur could feel Eames’s body go taut underneath him before he came in Arthur’s mouth, panting heavily and shuddering his way through his orgasm. Arthur reached up one hand to rub at Eames’s thigh, soothing him through the aftershocks. He waited until Eames opened his eyes again to slide his mouth off his cock. He leant over to the wastebasket near the desk and spat before returning to Eames, gently stroking at his settling hips and nuzzling his nose into his groin to kiss him gently where he was now going soft.

“Arthur – I – I can’t even explain how perfect that felt – Christ, you’re getting good at that.”

Arthur, still completely clothed and kneeling, fell back onto his knees for a moment. “Think I ought to get something in return, then.”

“What do you want?” Eames asked between deep breaths.

Arthur hesitated, looking all together too composed for someone who had just deepthroated. “Well, I want to try that pear salad you made tonight. And then, I think, some ice cream. I _have_ finished all my work for the evening.”

“That’s it?”

“Oh, and then I’d like to bend you over one of those tables and fuck you, obviously.”

Eames smiled at Arthur as he tugged him back up to his feet. “Obviously,” he said, pulling him in for a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Also, I do not know if head chefs tend to have offices in the back of their restaurants, but Chef Skinner does in _Ratatouille_ so, uh, I've run with it :D


End file.
